


Ghost of you

by youandmes



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Cussing, Death, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, ITS NOT GRAPHIC THO I PROMISE, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Murder, Repressed Memories, not historically accurate, set in joseon era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 03:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youandmes/pseuds/youandmes
Summary: Dongmin had never wanted to come back.He doesn't know what had led him here. Frankly, he doesn't know what's been going in the past few days, all he remembers are meetings with generals, warlords, and other people in high position. He remembers speaking, announcing the decisions he's made with his advisors, but it's all a big blur. It's irresponsible, especially someone who's the King of Joseon, but then again, he is king, so there's really no one else above him to scold him about it.





	Ghost of you

**Author's Note:**

> *nervous laughter at the tags and the fact that I haven't posted anything in the past four months* For some reason I found myself having trouble writing fluffy things lately and I was listening to the new 5sos album and uh.... It just... kinda happened?
> 
> Title and inspiration taken from: Ghost of You by 5 seconds of summer
> 
> All the things in tags are mentioned in brief and are not told explicit or graphic, but if any of the tags above trigger you, please don't force yourself to read this!! Other than that, please enjoy and don't kill me for writing another angsty prompt !!

Dongmin had never wanted to come back.

He doesn't know what had led him here. Frankly, he doesn't know what's been going in the past few days, all he remembers are meetings with generals, warlords, and other people in high position. He remembers speaking, announcing the decisions he's made with his advisors, but it's all a big blur. It's irresponsible, especially someone who's the King of Joseon, but then again, he is king, so there's really no one else above him to scold him about it.

It's the least of his worries really, he's sure his advisor, Kangjun, won't mind filling him in on all the meetings he's forgotten (albeit irritatedly). His biggest worry right now, is to figure out why he is in front of an abandoned house in the middle of the woods.  _His_  abandoned house.

Even the sight of it makes his legs threatening to buckle beneath his weight. Maybe if he was wearing his usual king attire, he would have. Apparently past Dongmin had thought of changing into the same clothes his people wear. He’s glad, those robes were exhausting to wear, much less to ride on. If someone were to pass by, they'd be disappointed to see their king in such casual clothing, in fear of a little house.

It's a quaint little house, the one his people on the far side of the Kingdom lived in. Other than residing in the middle of the woods, it's difference with other normal houses is how worn out it is. The paper windows and doors are charred greatly whilst the patio and railing and walls are barely there now, it's intricate pattern and designs are now replaced with black soot and dust. Part of the roof's greatly damaged as well. It's a miracle that the building didn't collapse during the fire,  _hasn't_ collapsed even now. 

He can smell the smoke and wood being burnt heavy in his nose that suffocates his chest, even though the forest is calm and shows no signs of a fire going on. It's just his mind messing with him. It was so long ago, and yet, he still remembers it all so vividly. This place isn't good for him.

He shouldn't be here. He can't be allowed to be seen here, not again.

And yet, Dongmin finds himself in front of the remainder of the door, his hand on the handle. His royal fingers that are washed and cleaned daily with only the finest of flower petals are now covered in soot. Kangjun would kill him if he saw him like this, if he knew he returned here. He has so many reasons to turn back, forget however the hell he got here and return to his daily routine of royal duties. 

The door slides with a loud creak.

He steps into the ruined house and winces at the sound of a few critters scuttling around. The house he stands before now makes him knocks the air out of his chest. All the precious treasures and trinkets to the old furniture are unidentifiable, burned to the brink of disfigurement. 

He feels a lick of flame burning on his forearm but he knows there’s no such fire anywhere. Not in such a place where there’s nothing left to be burnt. He takes a deep breath touches the remnants of what he guesses was a table.

_He had been too careless, too impatient to want to see his beloved sooner than they usually did, so he had left a letter, thinking no one would care, that no one would notice._

_(Oh how wrong he was.)_

_When he had heard the news of Jinwoo fainting during ethics class and discovered to be carrying bruises in his chest when brought to the infirmary, he had only wanted to check up on him. But to visit the infirmary in broad daylight would be too risky, and he had classes all day, with one of the king’s guards making sure he doesn’t skip class. it'd seem suspicious for the royal prince to visit an injured random scholar he didn't even know._

_So he placed a letter underneath the tray of tea that a servant had prepared for the injured scholar. It was a small relatively harmless letter really, asking him about his condition and to meet him at the house. They had done it a few times in the past, another one now wouldn’t get them caught surely._

_Dongmin rides his horse through the familiar forest with only the moonlight illuminating his path. The sound of his blood pumping in his ears and the sound of his horse galloping fills the dead silence of the woods. (Was he always this loud before? Did he really make sure that no one was following him then?)_

_He tugged the reins of his horse to make him stop when he looked ahead. Ice filled his veins as he saw tufts of clouds billowing out from the trees. From their house, where Jinwoo was waiting._

_He arrived at their little home to be surrounded by royal guards with hard stares as they threw their torches at the house. They glared at him at the sound of his gallops, some of them sneering and others looking away in disgust. But he couldn’t care any less about their nameless faces. He’d deal and cut off their heads later, he only cared about Jinwoo in the little house that was burning._

_“Jinwoo!” Dongmin ran for the door that was covered in orange ember, hoping that he was okay, praying for him to be okay. He pushed a few guards out of his way before he felt arms restraining him, the bright flames shining against Joseon’s emblem on their uniform. “As prince of Joseon, I demand you to release me! Jinwoo!" He struggles against their restraints. "Are you all deaf? There’s an injured man inside that house, help him! Jinwoo!” But they don't answer, they stare ahead at the flames with a blank stare in their eyes. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t fight with the amount of hands that are holding him back._

_“You dare to ignore the presence of the King for a pathetic little scholar?” The king asks, his voice resembling like thunder._

_His words make him fuming because how dare he talk about Jinwoo like that. He tries to push against guards to prove he’s wrong, but it’s useless._

_“You won't greet me neither as king or as your father? Disappointing.” He mutters. He circles around him like a hunter watching its prey. Every word of his make him sick, it’s more toxic than the fumes he’s breathing in._

_“Make them put out the fire.” He yelled. “Now!”_

_One of the guards loosens his hold on him and hits his head with a blunt object and it makes him lose sense of his vision for a good few seconds._

_“Ordering around the king now? My, that pest has truly broken you, my son. No matter, you’ll be fixed of your attitude very soon, now that the pest has been rid of.”_

_“Don’t you dare talk about him like that! Jinwoo!” He hears a shut up admist the guards and gets another blow to the head. “Jinwoo get out of there, get up! Jinw-“_

_This time he gets a slap from the king himself, the abundance of rings that sits on his fingers leaves a certain sting. He looks up to the king glaring at him with a steely gaze. “Silence! That pest is as good as gone by now. He was a sorry excuse of scholar, ruining the future king of Joseon. I cannot let this kingdom be ruled by a tainted prince.”_

_“His name is Park Jinwoo and he was a better thinker than all those old jesters you call scholars!” He can feel his voice straining, inhaling the smoke is starting to get to him, can feel the adrenaline in his veins being replaced with fatigue. But he can’t afford to grow weak, not yet. Not while his beloved is still inside and injured._

_“The people of Joseon would have you hanged if they knew just how pathetic their prince is for falling in love with a pest of a boy.” The king wrinkles his nose in disgust and Dongmin wants to punch that high and mighty look off his face. “Of course, I would have done it myself, if you weren’t the only male offspring I had. Oh, how I sometimes despise the laws of tradition.”_

_“Hang me,” Dongmin growls. “Throw me into the flames alongside with him! I’d rather die next to someone I love rather than having to live and call myself your son for the rest of my life."_

_“Oh, but that wouldn’t be enough. You’ve wronged me and the laws of the palace plentiful of times my boy, a quick death wouldn't be enough.” He gives out a terrifying grin, one that makes Dongmin’s stomach drop. “The heat’s getting awfully humid, so I’ll be heading back to the palace, where we will deal with the rest of your punishment.”_

_The king gets on his stallion and doesn’t even bother to look back at him as he instructs one of the guards to throw the rest of their torches to the house. “Enjoy the show.”_

As he walks around the remnants from the fire, he steps on something unfamiliar. Dongmin turns and crouches to the floor covered in soot and ashes. Ignoring at the thought of his advisor scolding him for coming back to the palace looking so un-royalty like, he digs through the mess. Desperation fuels him, hoping, praying, for something still salvageable, anything to remember the home he loves so much. There's soot deep in his fingertips and ash blinding his vision, but he smiles at his discovery.

In the midst of the aftermath of the fire and all the ashes, right on the spot where the mattress they slept on once laid, was a familiar little flower, barely blooming. It's petals were a beautiful pale shade of violet, a burst of color compared to all the grey. It's a rare one, he remembers reading about it during his scholar days, very rarely does it ever grow in the woods, much less an abandoned home like this. A silene viscaria.

How rarely does it ever grow around these parts, and yet often Jinwoo had often given a bouquet of these to him. He'd be waiting on the other side of the paper door with a handful of the wild flowers, waiting for Dongmin with the warmest of smiles. The vibrant colors of purple and pink decorated their little home because of how much Jinwoo would bring home along with him. When there were too much flowers scattered around the house to place anymore, Dongmin would sneak some in his pockets and put them in his bath.

_"Where do you find beautiful flowers such as these and so plentiful of them?" he had asked one night. They sat on the thin mattress, fatigue starting to set in their bones as the night grew longer. Dongmin was admiring the flowers, and Jinwoo admiring Dongmin._

_"They grow here," Jinwoo said, pointing right where his heart was. "They only bloom when they're given a special kind of sunshine."_

_"That's silly. All sunshine is the same." Dongmin points out._

_"I told you, it's a special kind of sunshine. One that only comes from," Jinwoo moves his finger in random directions, Dongmin's eyes following them. It went around everywhere, until it landed on Dongmin's lips. "Here."_

_"You're terribly cheesy." Jinwoo replies to him with a kiss._

_"Oh," He said, when they pulled away. "I can already feel some of them in bloom already."_

Oh how did he take that night for granted. Took all their nights and memories and all the flowers for granted. He pushes the ash away from the little flower, didn't want it's beauty to be ruined by the remainder of such an ugly accident.

 He doesn't even realize he's crying until a tear falls onto the little flower. His chest hurts with a different kind of pain this time, one from the memories and guilt. It's intense and so suffocating that makes his hands shake and want to fall over, but he holds on. He makes sure the little flower gets enough sunlight from the broken rooftop, builds a little fortress around the flower out of any rubble he can tear and put together to avoid being eaten by any of the wild creatures.

When he stands, he doesn't bother shrugging off the dust and ashes that had stained his handwoven silk hanbok. He admires the beautiful pale shade of purple and for the first time, allows himself to face the memories before the fire. All their getaways, the silly reasons he had made up and lied to his teachers about so he could skip sword training at dawn because he'd be with Jinwoo all night. Their hushed laughter and kisses and confessions and smiles that only the house in the woods knew. The fear and adrenaline as they shared their first night in the house together.

He remembers it all. He remembers the man named Park Jinwoo in his scholar outfit and eye smile that sent his heart racing and long black hair that he loved playing with. He remembers the first time he met him, their silly conversation that lasted for hours, their first kiss that happened right after astrology class, hiding behind the shelves, waiting for their teacher to leave then. He remembers the time when he had laughed and smiled happily for the first time and did things out of his own will and felt free.

He remembers Park Jinwoo. He remembers what love was.

Unlike his lover, he doesn't dare pick the flower from it's stem. He imagines of the home before the fire, where the first thing he'd see was Jinwoo's long hair blocking his eye smile and handing over the flowers. He'd have shoved the mattress somewhere else, the living room floor free from mess. This time, he imagined Jinwoo to be the one waiting for him, all this time to visit, still with the warmest of smiles.

Dongmin smiles to himself and bows to the thin air. In the same way Jinwoo always does, he asks, "May I have this dance, your highness?" 

And maybe it's purely coincidental, because it does get quite windy during monsoon season, but a soft breeze him by, strong enough to rattle the little flower and cools his face so gently, the delusional side of him imagines that it is him. It makes his heart beat faster. 

He places a hand on where he imagines Jinwoo's shoulders to be, and the other on his hipbone and begins dancing. He twists and twirls around their room and the memories here, around the little flower in the center of the room, and dance the same way they used to every night. He hums the same song he used to hum, but it doesn't sound the same as it used to. He bumps into wood and rubble because he was never the one to lead the dance and his fingers itch at the thin air from time to time, seeking for his presence.

Jinwoo had first offered to dance when they were new to the house and Dongmin had come to their home in rage. It was something so small, so unimportant that he can't even remember now what it was about, but he was furious and tense like a silly child in tantrum. Yet Jinwoo, so understanding and ever so calm, even after he had pushed away his offer to talk, offered him to take his mind off of his problems.

_"Dancing?" Dongmin asked incredulously. "That sounds silly, Jinwoo."_

_"That's the point! Dancing's silly. All you do is move your hands and legs and barely think of anything at all! It'll help you take your mind off of today." Jinwoo sat up and holds out his hand to him, not a single ounce of frustration in his eyes._

_And truth be told, he didn't want to dance. All he wanted to do was to sleep it all away and see someone who didn't infuriate him (and cuddle with Jinwoo. That's another reason). But Jinwoo is just so full of warmth, even after waiting for Dongmin and having to deal with his anger and his goddamn puppy dog eyes, he doesn't have the heart to reject him._

_"I still think this is silly." he sighs as he takes his hand. "We barely fit this place, neither of us can play a musical instrument, and we're supposed to be quiet so we don't get found out."_

_"We can make our own music." Jinwoo hums. "Now I want you to put your arms around me like," He takes one of Dongmin's hands to his shoulder and the other to his hipbone. "This."_

_Dongmin's fingers squeezes around his muscles and causing him to laugh and saying 'stop! it tickles!' Hearing his laugh makes him smile, and it distracts him from today's events just for a moment. "_

_“Just follow my lead.”_

He dances, but it’s not the same. He’s too used to Jinwoo leading him, his legs feel too stiff to move as freely as he once did. Their song sounds so foreign on his lips; it always sounds off key no matter how hard he tries to replicate the song from memory. Yet, despite of it all, Dongmin continues to dance.

The world around him starts to blur into a mere monochrome grey, where he can’t tell apart the walls of the old house and ashes of the fire.

When he finishes, he’s out of breath and perspiration dampening the layer of makeup his servants had put on him this morning. The sunlight from the hole in the rooftop illuminates specks of dust and clouds of ashes falling from his rash movements. The little flower sits in its makeshift flower pot, boasting its existence through its warm violet petals. Dongmin takes a good look around and finds beauty in the home he once loved.

He imagines Jinwoo standing across him, just as exhausted as he is with his long hair covering his eyes and smiling that same warm smile reserved for Dongmin. He thinks not about his last moments, falling asleep and dying waiting for his beloved. Instead, he remembers all the happy memories he’s willed to forget and the smiles of his caused by Jinwoo.

_When the song from Jinwoo’s hum ends, they both have smiles on their faces, equally dizzy, and panting from exhaustion._

_“This is the art of dancing you had mastered to learn for the eternity of your childhood? Spinning around the room like a couple of kids?” Dongmin teases._

_“I’ll have you know I was a fast learner, my love.” Jinwoo scoffs and places his arms around the other’s neck. “It takes others a lifetime to learn the secret of mastering dancing. I happened to learn it when I was merely nine years old.”_

_“What was it?”_

_He gives Dongmin a big grin and whispers the answer in his ear. “To feel freedom as you dance.”_

_Freedom. It’s a strange word that sits oddly on his tongue. He’s heard of it of course, it’s a word commonly found in the scriptures and parchments about his kingdom’s history and laws, but he’s never heard it being associated to a skill of the arts the way Jinwoo did._

_Freedom, according to his teacher, meant rebelling. If his people discovered too much freedom, there would be an uprising, crimes happening at every corner of the kingdom. Chaos would ensue and the Joseon kingdom that his grandfather and great grandfathers of the past had worked centuries to build would crumble in a matter of days._

_But with the way Jinwoo had said it, it meant liberating yourself as you twist and turn from one side of the room to the other in a series of erratic footsteps. To spin yourself wildly with your loved one as your heart quickens with every step, not in fear of being heard of, it’s because the world feels so light and so far away if you just spin and turn fast enough._

_“Jinwoo,” Dongmin says, pushing away the hair out of his beautiful dark eyes, the dizziness starting to subside. “I think I like dancing.”_

_He takes a step back and bows deeply towards the royal prince before taking one of his hands in his and presses a light kiss on the back of his hand. “Thank you, my love.”_

_And Dongmin doesn’t understand what he says. He wants to retaliate and say ‘No, thank you for introducing me to your secrets and passion. Thank you for making me forget about my angers of today. Thank you for teaching me what freedom truly means.’_

_He wants to say ‘Indulge me more of your past, tell me the stories of how you came to learn dance. I want to hear you talk of your past so that I may fall in love with the entirety of you. I want to thank your teacher, your mother, and the stars and moon for bringing you to me.’_

_He wants to say ‘Thank you for loving me.’_

_He says nothing, instead opting to pull him closer into a kiss and hopes that it is enough to convey everything he wants to say._

He looks at the empty space right in front of him, imagining the same Jinwoo from the first night they danced, hair disheveled and bangs covering his eyes, right where the little flower blooms. He bows deeply and feels tears in his eyes when he stands upright again. “Thank you, my love.”

There is no gust of wind to caress him as a reply, but he knows the little flower heard him, will relay his message in case the ghost of his beloved ever returns.

He takes one final look when he reaches the door, ready to exit. He takes in the damage of it all, allows his heart rip apart as he imagines this is what Jinwoo saw in his last seconds before death had taken him away from Dongmin.

“I love you.” He says, to the home where he found love and freedom, to the memories and trinkets that were burned from his memory since that cruel night, and to the ghost of the one his heart continues to yearns for.

Dongmin exits the house covered in soot and ashes all over his silk clothes. He takes careful steps, though no longer winces at the creak of of old wood. He calls for his horse that awaits by the river nearby and rides back to the palace as the sun starts to set. He leaves the old house in the woods with more memories, new and old, a clearer mind, and a promise to return.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (reminder this all fiction and im sure that dongmins dad irl is a great dude AND THAT this is all fake nor do i hope anything like this onto the boys)
> 
> *more nervous laughter*  
> I promise i love Jinwoo i promise i do love jincha but they're just S O....angstable. I hope it was considered angsty enough and you enjoyed it somehow ^^ Tell me what you liked or didn't like about it or any criticism about the story through the comments or a kudos or a bookmark, it would help improve my writing greatly! Of course, no pressure, it already means alot that you've read and finished this far ♡ 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, have a nice day/night ♡


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